


Unorthodox

by Caveat_Lector



Series: Refuge Ficlets [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bodily Fluids, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6852247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caveat_Lector/pseuds/Caveat_Lector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal offers Will some unorthodox therapy. The results are not quite what he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unorthodox

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same universe as 'Refuge' and continues the story started there, but stands alone as well. 
> 
> For fic_promptly ('unconventional therapy') and the kink bingo square 'bodily fluids'. 
> 
> Thank you to [victorine](http://archiveofourown.org/users/victorine/pseuds/victorine) for immensely helpful beta services – you are a star!

_"Would it be a problem for you – for our friendship – if I was attracted to men?"_

_"Not at all, Will. It has been a while, but I have had sexual relationships with men."_

Will woke hard and aching, his hand down his boxer shorts. The stickiness of his skin disgusted him, and he was too damp with sweat to be comfortable, but there was an image behind his eyelids that made him grip his cock more tightly, spread his legs as far as his tangled sheets would let him.

Hannibal looked up at him, lips shiny, parting for Will. He thrust into his hand and the heat of Hannibal's mouth.

_″I have had sexual relationships with men."_

He was going to have to look Hannibal in the eye over dinner this evening. He was going to have to do that without picturing Hannibal's cheeks hollowing to suck him down, without seeing Hannibal's eyes close in bliss at the taste of him.

He should stop. 

He should stop before-- ahh-- before--

Oh, _god_.

Before the image of Hannibal licking come off his lips was burned into his mind.

This was why Will hated getting too close to people. Their secrets, their confidences, they bled into his mind, sparked his imagination in ways he'd never looked for. Hannibal was seeping into his personal as well as his professional life; had been doing so slowly since they met.

He should probably tell Jack he needed to see a different therapist. 

He pulled his hand free of the mess in his boxers and picked out a path to the sink between the dogs dancing around his feet. Predictably, there was no hot water. Cold water sluiced over his hand, washing it clean all the same. There was nothing to see here; he didn't need another therapist. 

He gritted his teeth and shivered his way through an icy cold shower. There was always a price for self-indulgence and Will was going to be paying it this evening. He might as well get started now.

 

″It occurs to me that I may have been rude.″

Hannibal cleared away the dessert plates with practised ease, and without comment. 

″Unintentionally rude,″ Will added.

″Therapists are used to defensive hostility.″ Hannibal placed two cups of coffee down and took his seat once more. ″We develop thick skins.″

″This wasn't--″ Will stopped, because maybe it had been defensive hostility. He didn't think Hannibal would call him on it outside of their sessions, but he suspected Hannibal already had a memo in his head for the next one. ″I didn't mean to imply you might be homophobic.″

″But you were surprised at my reaction.″

″It seemed... odd.″ 

″And it was more than a little unprofessional.″ Hannibal sipped at his coffee. ″I'm sorry. It wasn't to mock you, if that's what you were thinking. I can truthfully say you are a very attractive man.″

There was a mischievous glint in Hannibal's eye. Will choked back a laugh. ″You really don't need to do that.″

″Will.″ 

Hannibal waited until Will met his gaze again. ″I'm not just trying to make you feel better.″

″I-- thank you, I think.″ Will had a flash of Hannibal's face looking up at him, mouth open. He shook his head to clear his vision, and tried to will away the flush working its way up from his neck. ″I've been told I scrub up acceptably well, but it's been pointed out to me that I make poor relationship material. And apparently I'm a surly, uncooperative platonic date.″

Hannibal raised his eyebrows.

″Shopping and makeovers,″ Will explained. ″Most women who aren't completely indifferent historically want me to be their straight Gay Best Friend.″

Hannibal grimaced.

″I see you've been there.″

″Perhaps I will let Alana tell you that story. She enjoys it very much.″

Will nodded, not surprised he wasn't going to elaborate. Hannibal was leading him somewhere with this conversation; he just had no idea where. 

″None of that explains why you were pleased,″ he said thoughtfully.

Hannibal leaned back in his chair. ″You noticed that.″

″I did.″ 

Will shifted as the silence dragged on, suddenly uncomfortable. Perhaps he shouldn't have pushed. He rubbed at the back of his neck and opened his mouth, but Hannibal held up a hand before he could speak.

"I hesitate only because I was not going to bring it up just yet," Hannibal said slowly. "It's merely a more unorthodox form of therapy I have considered introducing to some of our sessions.″

″Unorthodox.″

″Yes. There are a number of approaches I have considered, but your sexuality would make this one an especially good fit for you. However, it may not be the right time, considering you have expressed a strong desire to avoid further discomfort."

"You want to introduce discomfort?" As if struggling to express his inner truth or whatever it was didn't cause him enough anguish already. Hannibal hadn't touched on any subjects relating to Will's sex life before, so if exploring that was the type of therapy he had in mind--

"Confrontation, even with oneself, is rarely a comfortable experience. Neither is change."

″I don't do well with change.″

″I know. But you accept that sometimes it is necessary.″

Will focused on his reflection in the darkened windows. 

"So you don't think I can handle it. This, this therapy." He didn't need to be coddled. It wasn't as if it would even work on him, however unorthodox the method.

"I didn't say that. I think you have more courage than you know."

Will chuckled, the tension in his shoulders relaxing just a little. "So, you're offering discomfort, and I'll need my deepest reserves of courage? You're not really selling this therapy, Doctor Lecter."

"As I recall, I was of the opinion that this was not the right time for it."

Will's fingers twitched an irregular rhythm on Hannibal's dining table. "Maybe you can let me decide that?"

Hannibal was silent for what seemed like a long time. 

"I have told you almost as much as I can. Our sessions would be at my house, in my study, rather than my office here. You would be expected to trust me, to answer questions as truthfully as you can, and to follow instructions. Some of these instructions may involve minor transgressions of so-called normal behaviour, or the breaking of some of the more absurd taboos society has developed."

Trust. Transgressions. Taboos. Will could feel his heart thump at each of those words.

"Essentially, you would be experiencing many times over, and more intensely, whatever you felt when you came to my doorstep with that bottle of wine." Hannibal paused. "Does that sound like something you'd be comfortable with?"

Will saw himself raise his hand to the door, straighten his jacket. He felt the jolt of anticipation deep in his belly. It had been a long time since he'd felt anything like that. It made a pleasant change from terror and revulsion.

He selected his words even more carefully than usual.

"Not even a little bit," he said, and looked Hannibal straight in the eye. "When can we start?"

 

″You're nervous.″

Will turned to watch Hannibal shut his study door behind them. And lock it.

″Why have you--?″

Don't worry, Will. It will become clear.″ 

″You've rearranged your furniture,″ Will said. The chairs that were normally near Hannibal's desk had been moved further away from the door. 

″For our session today, yes.″

Hannibal walked over to the chairs, and after a moment Will followed him.

″Let me guess.″ Will sat down and stretched out his legs, feigning a casual air he was nowhere near feeling. ″It will become clear?″

Hannibal handed him a glass of wine. ″Relax, Will.″

Will stared at the wine. Red. He wet his lips with it and let the taste settle.

″Are you going to ask me about my love life?″

Hannibal didn't even pause. ″Do you want me to?″

″Not really.″ He took a gulp of the wine and considered how honest he wanted to be. ″There's not a lot to tell.″

″We may get to it in time.″ Hannibal smiled, and Will couldn't help but return it. ″But for now, I would like you to remove your clothes.″

He tilted the wine glass to his mouth as if he had merely asked Will to pass the salt at dinner. 

″I beg your pardon?″

It felt more like Hannibal had punched him in the stomach, then casually strolled away.

″Is there a problem?″ Hannibal was unruffled, perfectly placid. 

″You want me to... take my clothes off.″

Hannibal nodded.

″Here.″

Another nod.

Will felt a twist of fear in his belly. Fear with just a little thrill attached. He didn't want to think about that right now. ″All of them?″

″Please.″

Will found himself at Hannibal's desk before he was aware of leaving his chair. He put the wine glass down; it didn't feel safe in his hand.

″I'm beginning to see why you had second thoughts,″ Will said. He pressed a hand down hard on the polished surface. This... yes, this was real. He was in Hannibal's study, and Hannibal had just asked him to take off his clothes, as if that was a thing people did every day in therapy sessions.

Perhaps they did.

Hannibal's face remained unchanged. 

″I didn't think this would be such a problem, Will. You live alone, with no close neighbours. Do you not take advantage of that to walk around as god and nature intended?″

″You live alone. Do _you_?″ 

″In the house, certainly.″

Will leaned back against the desk. He let out a long breath, felt it rattle unsteadily out of his lungs. He thought about removing his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt. He thought about unzipping his pants with Hannibal's eyes on him.

His wine glass was empty. Shit.

″Here.″ Hannibal filled the glass for him, and Will took a long drink. ″Calmer?″

Will nodded. ″This... isn't quite what I expected.″ He enunciated the words carefully. It helped, each hard consonant snapping off his tongue helping to pin his thoughts and feelings in place.

″I told you I would be asking you to step outside of your comfort zone. To be naked in a space not our own is to make ourselves very vulnerable.″

″Maybe if I was on my own--" 

″I can't leave you alone, Will. We will still need to converse.″ Hannibal gestured towards the chairs. ″But I didn't plan to observe you, if that's your concern. You can remain out of my line of sight easily if I sit in that chair.″

Will shoved his hands down in his jacket pockets. The painting behind Hannibal's chair had intrigued him on previous visits; there was no harm in taking a closer look. Hannibal said nothing as he moved to stand in front of it, just refilled his own glass and sat down in his chair. He leafed through a notebook, and appeared to have forgotten about Will entirely.

It was warm in the room, so taking off his jacket seemed reasonable. He wondered if Hannibal had turned up the heating in preparation; it was the sort of courtesy he could imagine from him. He watched the back of Hannibal's head as he unfastened the buttons on his shirt.

″I feel ridiculous,″ he said, letting the shirt hang open. Hannibal's study was so neat, so perfect. Putting his rumpled clothes down anywhere in it seemed almost a violation. He was the only thing in the room that didn't make them look out of place.

″I have an idea.″ Hannibal moved his head so Will just had a glimpse of his profile. ″May I turn?″

″Yes.″ Will pulled his shirt around him, feeling foolish and awkward next to Hannibal's easy composure. ″I didn't get very far.″

Hannibal offered him a smile. ″It wasn't fair of me to ask you to do this alone. To be the only one to make yourself vulnerable.″ He rose in a smooth movement, and slid his jacket off. He placed it carefully over the back of his chair, smoothing it down with wide, flat palms. His waistcoat, tie and shirt followed before Will's brain caught up with what was happening.

Hannibal stripped efficiently, without the slightest hesitation or hint of shame. He laid his belt over his neatly folded clothes and Will had to look away. The sound of the zipper was impossibly loud in the quiet room.

″Now,″ Hannibal said, in a way that Will assumed meant he was finished. ″I will go to my desk and check my appointment book. I will not look at you, but you may look at me if you choose. Then I will come back here and dress, and sit in my chair.″

Will caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye, and couldn't help but turn his head to follow it. Hannibal was lean, and surprisingly muscular for a man who spent his work hours sitting in comfortable chairs. There was something graceful about his movements, something powerful and confident even without his immaculate, expensive armour.

If this therapy of Hannibal's could take him even a short distance along the path from the man who stood here clutching his shirt closed in front of him to-- well, to _that_? Then maybe it would be worth a little embarrassment.

″You really aren't afraid of being unorthodox, are you?″

Hannibal closed his appointment book. ″I'm afraid of very little. I hope one day you will be able to say the same.″

Will darted his eyes away when Hannibal turned, but not before he saw a strong chest, lightly scattered with hair, and a thick, heavy cock resting between his thighs.

″Baby steps.″ Will unclenched his hands from his shirt. He could do this.

″Exactly.″

Hannibal had forgone his waistcoat and jacket, and sat with his shirt sleeves rolled up when Will looked over. It was easier, somehow, to do this when he had those bare forearms to focus on.

His hands still trembled when he unfastened his belt. 

Discarded clothes formed a lonely little pile by his feet as he worked his way through them: shirt, undershirt, pants, socks, neatly rolled belt, all placed on top of his jacket and shoes. It seemed like a lot of layers when viewed in this new environment.

He took a deep breath and pushed down his underwear before he thought about it too hard. 

Even with the warmth of the room, he was aware of a fleeting chill across his skin. He shivered, his eyes on the door. What if someone-- right, Hannibal locked it, he remembered that. He glanced quickly at the windows, but they were covered.

Hannibal had thought of everything. He resisted the urge to clasp his hands in front of his groin. Touching would be a bad idea.

God, why had he agreed to this? He had... had he agreed to this? Or did he imagine it after all; was Hannibal going to turn around in a moment and be shocked to see Will standing here naked in his house? A rising tide of panic filled his ears with roaring water, sent his heart skittering under his ribs.

"Deep breaths, Will."

"If--" Will choked on the words, forced them down. "If I breathe-- any deeper--" _I'll drown_ , he wanted to say. But he wouldn't, because Hannibal was sitting there with his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow, something he'd never seen in this room before. But he'd seen him save a life like that, seen him hold it safely in his hands.

The man who did that could stop Will from drowning if he had to. 

He kept his eyes fixed on Hannibal's arms and felt his breathing even out, slowly return to normal.

"Better?" 

"Yes." Will rubbed at his arms, for lack of anything better to do with his hands. He missed his pockets, maybe even more than the actual clothes he wasn't wearing. 

"If you like, you may sit on the floor, lie down, walk around, or just stand." Hannibal sounded as calm as always. "You can look at the artwork, if you need a distraction."

"Aren't we supposed to be conversing?" Will wasn't sure he wanted to take his eyes away from Hannibal just yet. This was still... uncomfortable. How often was Hannibal going to want to do this? 'Some of our sessions', he'd said. How many was 'some'?

Hannibal tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. "There's no need to force it. We can let that develop naturally." 

"Nothing about this feels natural," Will admitted. 

He expected disappointment in response, but Hannibal just chuckled.

"That will come in time. In a few weeks you will probably forget yourself enough to come and sit down in your chair and tell me how wrong I am about your latest case."

"Is that what I do?" Will wondered. The rest of it sounded extremely unlikely. Hannibal clearly underestimated how messed up and self-conscious Will could be when he put his mind to it.

"I appreciate your bluntness, Will. Never think otherwise."

"Well, I'm glad someone does." 

Will paced up to the edge of the rug and back. It was only when he reached his pile of clothes that he wondered if Hannibal could see that part of the room from where he sat, but Hannibal gave no indication of looking at anything other than the notebook in his lap.

"I still feel ridiculous," he said. 

"Our bodies are ridiculous, are they not? Walking packages of meat and blood and bone, with a consciousness attached." Hannibal paused. "Whoever could have dreamed up such a thing?"

"Mine is certainly preposterous on a regular basis. And inconvenient."

"I think this is the point where I should take the opportunity to ask about your masturbation habits," Hannibal said, as evenly as he would mention a mutual acquaintance, or offer him a drink. 

Will drew in a sharp breath. 

"But I think I will give you a pass on that one for today." There was amusement in Hannibal's voice, the-- the--

Will spluttered, laughing in spite of himself. "Doctor Lecter, you are a very bad man."

"But a very good therapist." Hannibal still sounded far too pleased with himself. "And a magnanimous one. I have decided you have suffered enough for one evening."

"Oh, thank god." Will let himself sink to the floor. "Does that mean I can--"

He could see the back of Hannibal's hand as he held it up.

"Don't get dressed yet. There is something else I want you to do before you leave."

"And for this I need to be undressed?"

Hannibal seemed to be considering this. "Think of yourself as a creature. An animal if you prefer, or a wild, untamed human being. One who sniffs and licks and pees, and wanders where it pleases. Does that sound like the sort of creature who wears clothing?"

"All right." 

"I will close my eyes, and you will leave this room. You may leave your clothes in the hallway, then I want you to explore. Go anywhere you want in the house." Hannibal paused. "Except the kitchen. Kitchens are not a place for casual nudity."

Will wondered what non-casual nudity was like, but part of him was too intrigued by the proposition at hand to give it much thought.

"Why?"

"Before you dress and let yourself out, I want you to do one thing. Any one thing you like. Something that a civilised human being would never dream of doing in another person's home."

Will could feel a tingle of excitement in the pit of his stomach already. "What are the restrictions?"

"There are none," Hannibal said immediately. He sounded almost eager. "You may break, steal, perform bodily functions on, eat, drink, mess up or generally cause havoc with any one thing or place you like. There will be no legal or other adverse consequences, I will not judge or condemn whatever action you take, and I will never speak of it unless you bring it up yourself."

"So, total freedom." Will could feel his heartbeat in his mouth, his stomach, his _cock_ for god's sake. What the hell was wrong with him, that he was getting off on just the thought of this?

"Total freedom," Hannibal agreed. "I will remain here for--" Will saw his arm lift to check his watch. "For another forty-five minutes. I trust that will give you enough time."

 

Hannibal laid his pen down on top of his notebook. It had been-- yes, almost fifty minutes since Will had left the study. There had been no obvious sounds to indicate Will had left the house, but he couldn't deny he was impatient to see what Will had done. 

Will knew the deadline, it wasn't Hannibal's fault if he had exceeded the allotted time.

There was no sign of anything amiss in the hallway, the dining room or the downstairs bathroom. Hannibal climbed the stairs with a pleasant buzz of anticipation building. Will had taken the time to explore further than he had dared to expect, because the master bedroom door was ajar.

Straight for the most personal room in the house, then. It was either very telling, or it was a challenge well-met. Hannibal found both options appealing in their own way. 

He crossed to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. Nothing was in disarray, but there was a smell, a strong scent of-- surely not.

Crossing to the bed, he pulled back the sheets. Across the dark red silk lay spatters of white fluid slowly sinking into the fabric. Hannibal stared, then stretched out his hand to smear his fingers through the mess.

"An interesting and very revealing choice, Will," he said. It was much more than he'd hoped for, but that was Will: he always managed to surpass his expectations in the most surprising ways.

He looked at his fingertips, and slowly moved them up to his mouth. It would be a shame to waste such a deliciously intimate gift. He closed his eyes as he slid his fingers over his bottom lip and onto his tongue, savouring his first taste of Will Graham. 

He could only hope it wouldn't be the last.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at moorsmist on tumblr and twitter, always glad to know new people!


End file.
